


One Of Those Nights

by Sunche



Category: Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Beatles References, Dancing, M/M, Sharing a Bed, drunk fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1274203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunche/pseuds/Sunche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Those nights, they're nights for talking, for listening to every single record there is, for drinking all the weird feelings away even though drinking makes the weird feelings increase, for watching and for long looks–– longing looks none of them would want to call out. Longing looks from one pair of doe eyes to another.<br/>Those nights rarely ever happen in public. They start in public, just like this one, and that's before they realise that tonight will end up as one of Those nights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Of Those Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the afterparty of last year's GQ awards, I wrote this bit some time ago when Miles's short hair was pretty new and Alex liked to wear ugly yellow shirts (have a look at the pictures from that night).
> 
> I suggest listening to The Beatles' "Please Please Me" LP while reading this, you'll find out why.

Alex is not 100% sure just how he ends up at this place, he might be 80% sure they took a taxi, but hell, they might have just gone somewhere else after the award show and walked through half of London to Miles's flat. But a taxi is more likely.

Did anyone else share the ride with them? Matt? Jamie? Nick? Alex has no idea.

 

If there's one thing Alex knows how to do completely shitfaced then it's putting on records, so with clumsy movements, he puts on the next best LP he spots in the stacks of records Miles has messily piled up around the player. His vision is so blurry he doesn't even know what record he's taken, but judging from Miles's face as he walks into his bedroom he's d'accord with the decision.

He's got a bottle of wine with him and only as Alex sees Miles smiling at him cheekily as he says "Make yourself comfortable", Alex realises he himself is already lying on the bed.

"Sorry," he mumbles and sits up.

"Don't be, Al."

Miles is slurring and he's not far from staggering, but if there's one thing Miles knows how to do completely shitfaced then it's pouring liquid into glasses. Not one tiny drip has ever ruined Miles's white carpet. Or his sheets. As plastered as Alex is, he doesn't want to be the one spilling red wine onto Miles's sheets, so he gets up insecurely, carefully. His eyes cling to the gaze Miles has set on him and Alex realises that it's one of Those nights.

 

Those nights, Alex cherishes them as much as he loathes them.

Those nights, they've been having them for what, six years now?

Those nights come and go and most of them are forgotten quickly and still each one of those nights counts so much.

Those nights mostly start with deep conversations about things no one else but Alex and Miles would understand.

Those nights, they started in France, on some long walk back to their farm house through a field when Alex had accidentally said he had rarely ever been happier. He had meant it, and thinking back, France would forever have a special place in his heart, but that night something had started none of them could control.

There are next to no secrets between them. There might be things left unsaid because they've been irrelevant until now, but mostly everything has been said in the course of Those nights, everything has been questioned and discussed, no matter how uncomfortable the subject. Mostly because Those nights barely ever happen sober. Alex and Miles have always needed alcohol to warm up and to talk, as sad as it sounds.

 

Those nights, they're nights for talking, for listening to every single record there is, for drinking all the weird feelings away even though drinking makes the weird feelings increase, for watching and for long looks–– _longing_ looks none of them would want to call out. Longing looks from one pair of doe eyes to another.

Those nights rarely ever happen in public. They start in public, just like this one, and that's before they realise that tonight will end up as one of Those nights.

 

Alex has realised and there's always this split second of panic in which he thinks maybe he should make a dash and run, or when it happens at his place, somehow get rid of Miles. But it's always a split second and the thought's gone as quickly as it came.

"Yer staggering, Mr Turner," states Miles as he hands him a glass. "You better stay."

It's never supposed to sound sexual, and it always does, and Alex hates it and he loves it and he's upset because he doesn't know if Miles is doing this on purpose.

"You're so generous, Mr Miles Kane," says Alex and leers at Miles, smile crooked but still beautiful, he knows.

"I'm really not," says Miles, eyes locked closely with Alex's.

"Yes you are," insists Alex.

On some of Those nights, Alex thought there could have been more happening than longing looks if any of them had ever lost control. But he's too scared of getting involved in anything else right now.

 

Miles must have taken off his suit jacket in those few seconds that Alex has been lost in thought, at least Alex can't spot the jacket anymore. There's only his best mate in a black button-up mocking the colour of Alex's shirt. Yeah, okay. Mustard yellow may have not been his strongest choice, but at least the suit is sharp!

"Cheers mate," says Miles, voice as low as on any other of Those nights, and he gently clinks his glass with Alex's.

 

There have been looks blurring the line between friendly and burning, between safe and passionate. Looks that haunt Alex because there’s more to them. They are able to communicate telepathically, that’s nothing new. But Miles’s eyes tell stories, whole novels about what he feels, and Alex tries not to get involved with it too much or else he might question this state of weird relationship they’re in — question it even more than he already does. It’s what keeps him awake at night. What’s always kept him awake.

People say when you’re unable to be unhappy around someone it’s love, but Alex doesn’t want to believe in that, though he can’t think of a moment he was unhappy around Miles. Well, yes, around the break-up with Alexa maybe, but it only needed Miles’s company and cheery aura and smiley face and uplifting words to make him feel like a human again.

 

France was worse. Their little apartment on the second floor of a farm house was big enough for a bedroom and a little bathroom then, and after having enternained their landlord and landlady – the farmers – until they’d gone to bed, and after a last shared smoke and some half-hearted attempts at a new song, and after switching off the light on the terrace and going inside, after all that, they fell asleep together. One big bed, the window wide open so they wouldn’t die of a heatstroke the next morning, and some last whispered words before Miles fell asleep under his thin white sheet glowing in the moonlight.

In France, it took Alex at least an hour more to fall asleep and he always did with the view of how calm Miles looked in his slumber, peaceful and completely at ease with the whole world.

It was a bubble.

They’d lived in a bubble during those weeks, phone calls home maybe once a week, they’d lived off fresh food from the farm and explored their surroundings on bike trips, sometimes walking so far off they’d need half of the night to get back home.

 

The bubble was burst soon enough, getting back to England, and Those nights kept getting weirder because people were around and they had to adapt to their real life again.

Real life was great but it also made meeting up harder, so seeing each other was… well, not rare, but something else than living together, certainly.

 

Alex empties his glass in one go because Miles’s eyes are still on him and he can’t handle it very well, so he rather intoxicates himself than caring too much. Well, he’s still intoxicated anyway, so one drink more or less shouldn’t do much to him.

“Maybe you should ‘ave a seat after all,” says Miles with a subtle smile and his hand is on Alex’s chest, pushing him backwards until Alex is seated on the bed again, his hands finding the soft fabric of his friend’s satin duvet.

“Maybe that’s better,” he mumbles while Miles enjoys the last swallow of his wine. “Miles man, I miss your hair.”

Miles laughs as he puts down his glass on a stack of books on his nightstand, and then sits next to Alex.

“I miss your hair too, you know. And mine.” He looks slightly disappointed with himself, as if the cut has been a bad idea (which it was, in Alex’s opinion, but it will grow out again quickly), and Alex leans his forehead against his mate’s shoulder. He could probably fall asleep like that, with Miles’s low laughter in his ear and the music softly playing on the other side of the room.

 

Alex loathes Those nights because he can’t escape them, they keep happening, and they keep leaving him frustrated somehow. He doesn’t even know why he ends up frustrated at all, maybe because _nothing ever happens_ , but he wouldn’t know what should happen, really. They usually end up either taking a taxi home or falling asleep in each other’s beds – which is no problem, they’ve done this before, and they both have beds bigger than the one in France – with music playing, or maybe not playing anymore. And while in France Alex was the one taking hours to fall asleep, now he’s mostly so drunk he’s knocked out as soon as there’s a pillow under his head.

Nothing ever happens. Not anymore.

Alex is not sure how to define ‘happening’ at all, maybe he wishes for more than those looks they share, more than intense conversations and nuzzling foreheads into shoulders. Maybe he wishes he’d never dreamed about Miles in an… intense kind of way. Alex can’t control his dreams or people in them, and he doesn’t even know what happened in that dream but he definitely woke up with a bad feeling about everything.

 

Nothing ever happens anymore after one particular of Those nights that Miles thinks Alex has forgotten about. But Alex does not forget things so easily, especially not a situation like this, just two years ago at this bigass headliner show in London with Miles in his red blazer, being the happiest Alex had ever seen him since France. Alex knows that what’s going on on stage is for show, it always is, but he also remembers how hard it was for both of them to keep their eyes and hell, even hands, off each other.

The after show party didn’t help. The free alcohol didn’t help. The post-gig-euphoria didn’t help. All of that really just increased their need for each other. The next date would be in Cardiff, but they’d have a day off and would therefore sleep at home. Miles too slept at Alex’s house that night, more by accident than by plan though, and the air was strained as soon as they’d entered the apartment. The tension hanging between them, you could cut it, but it was a good tension and both of them tried laughing it off, and both of them made it worse with little touches and little words said accidentally.

The bedroom dance party was probably not a good idea, but in that moment Alex thought it was the best thing ever. Nothing really beats singing Bowie on top of your lungs at 3 AM standing on your bed with your best friend, legs shaking because the mattress is too soft, and having to hold on to each other so no one falls off the bed.

Eventually, it was Alex whose legs gave in first and he couldn’t help taking Miles with him. Alex hit his head on the headboard, not so bad, but still leaving him whimpering. More laughing than actually pitying him, Miles then began kissing his head to distract from the pain – which worked perfectly as Alex’s thoughts crashed and clattered and swirled into each other and dived and drowned in each other until he just didn’t think anymore at all because thinking was stressful and hurt him and Alex tightly wrapped his arms around Miles, pressing his face where Miles’s neck met his shoulder met his chest, his lips resting against the hot collarbone, his nose against the curve of Miles’s neck.

Miles never questioned it, he simply kept kissing the top of Alex’s head until the older one fell asleep.

 

It had been nothing, really, but the night kept haunting Alex because ever since France this had been the first night they’d spent wrapped around each other without letting go, as Alex woke up still clinging to Miles in the morning. And there was no other place he would have wanted to be.

 

Now, with two apartments in London and L.A., of which one Arielle is residing in as well, Miles and Alex haven’t shared a bed in a while, in months, even though Miles stays at Alex’s when he comes to L.A, but that doesn’t happen so often.

Alex knows that if nothing happens tonight, everything will come down to the next time they’re in France, which is only one or two months away, even if it’s just for a few days. However, Alex has no idea if Those nights are ever gonna change or if they just stay the same, eating him up, frustrating and annoying and… and this has to either stop altogether or change into something else, because Alex really can’t cope with so much tension.

 

“We haven’t danced in a while,” says Miles, interrupting Alex’s twisted thoughts, and Alex jumps up, pulling Miles up as well.

“We should,” he says and tries to focus on his friend, which is hard because his eyes keep jumping everywhere, from their shoeless feet to the bookshelf to their hands to the record player to the light source to the window to Miles’s exposed collarbones to the bed to the door, to nothing because he has to close them.

“Don’t you dare passing out now,” Miles warns him and Alex’s eyes snap open as he’s pushed down into Miles’s old velvet armchair. “Stay awake. I’ll change it to summin more danceable.”

But Alex doesn’t want to be left sitting there so he follows Miles the few feet through the room and puts six different LPs in his mate’s hands, all of them Beatles, because honestly, you can always put on the Beatles, they never get boring.

“’Ave a favourite?” Miles searches for the answer in Alex’s eyes, but Alex just shakes his head.

Miles decides on _Please Please Me_ , a hard decision because they’re all amazing.

They dance through all the first songs, on the floor, on the bed, in the kitchen, on full volume, and Alex feels like he’s in a movie. They’ve done it before, as intoxicated as they are now, with other records, sometimes here, sometimes in Miles’s old flat, sometimes in Alex’s flat, sometimes even in L.A., but this time there’s something more to it, something Alex can’t grasp yet deny, it’s in the air around them, in their dance moves, in the way they always find back to each other like magnets, really. If Alex had a penny for every time someone told them they literally acted like magnets to metal, he could possibly buy Miles an own flat in L.A..

 

It’s only until _Anna_ comes up that Miles jumps on the bed, towering over an exhausted Alex leaning against the wardrobe, and starts singing along with the lyrics all wrong.

 

“ _Alex,_

_You come and ask me, boy_  
To set you free, boy  
You say she loves you more than me  
So I will set you free  
Go with her, go with her!”

 

Alex laughs; it’s true, isn’t it? It’s funny. It fits so well. It’s… funny, right?

  
  
_“Alex,_  
Boy, before you go now  
I want you to know now  
That I still love you so  
But if she loves you more  
Go with her!”

 

Miles is making a fool out of himself up there, he can’t stop smiling though, it’s ridiculous, and Alex should find this funnier, but Miles has basically just declared his love to him and that’s… not so funny.

  
  
_“All of my life_  
I've been searching for a girl  
To love me like I love you  
Oh, now, but every girl I've ever had  
Breaks my heart and leaves my sad  
What am I, what am I supposed to do?”

 

It’s not getting any better, really, and Alex is shocked at Miles still being so happy-go-lucky. Searching for a _girl_ , because he can’t have a _boy_ , even though he’d like to. Girls break your heart, don’t they? They often do, but Miles has never broken Alex’s heart and both of them know that will never happen.

  
  
_“Alex,_  
Just one more thing, boy  
You give back your ring to me, and I will set you free  
Go with her!”

  
Alex knows _go with her_ is not an issue now, she’s not even in the country, but all these confessions and the fact this whole song is way too fitting, all of it is clawing at Alex and he tries biting it back, but it’s so hard.

 

“ _All of my life_  
I've been searching for a girl  
To love me like I love you  
But let me tell you now,

_But every girl I've ever had_  
Breaks my heart and leaves my sad  
What am I, what am I supposed to do?

_Oh oh oh oh ohh Alex,_  
Just one more thing, boy  
You give back your ring to me, and I will set you free  
Go with her!”

 

Miles is on his knees on the bed, pointing at Alex as he always does, it’s so typical, and he still finds himself so funny, but Alex feels like crying, really. He doesn’t want to be in this situation, he doesn’t want to feel what he feels, _it can’t be_.

 

It’s probably the record with the most love songs on it, and Miles gets Alex to smile again by only pulling him away from the wardrobe and through the whole flat, onto the balcony and back. They dance through _Love Me Do_ still all giddy, but singing to each other, and _PS I Love You_ is even worse; they don’t part an inch since Alex has turned Miles once and pulled him closest as they can get. His hand is tightly grabbing Miles’s slim hip to hold him in place, where he wants to have him. The songs are short and soon they’re at _Baby It’s You_ , eyes locked and hips swaying in unison, left to right, fingers interlaced on one side, Alex still holding on to Miles’s hip and the younger man’s fingers digging into Alex’s shoulder.

 

Dancing is one thing, slow dancing something entirely else, and bodies often don't work very well together with minds, especially not when the mind is numbed by alcohol, and no matter what anyone's trying to tell you, your body _will_ play against you when you're trying to not let too much body contact get to you on a sexual level.

It's just impossible.

So what Alex feels is that excitement of knowing something is about to happen, something good hopefully, it's excitement and anticipation and it's choking Alex from within, it's knowing that when Miles just sang to him with a smile on his face, he was playing cool. What he sang he meant, but he pretended he didn't and it's frustrating Alex in another way, as if he wasn't special enough for Miles to tell him he loves him, instead he has to do it through a song. What Alex feels is arousal, clearly, warm waves of excitement spreading through his body from where Miles is touching him ever so subtly.

Alex can't bear looking into Miles's eyes any longer, so he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against his mate's. It's probably the most intimate they've been for almost two years. It's not like they're not sometimes fooling around on stage, but that's something else, that's Alex's stage character he can't take off, it's just that he can't help but play a role, part of the performance, so nothing can get to him so easily.

This is far from any stages though, it's Miles's bedroom and it really can't get any more intimate than this.

 

As Alex opens his eyes he sees Miles has his closed, and he really can't see a lot at all, they're that close to each other.

Alex tightens his grip around Miles's hip to keep himself from backing off again like the coward he is, and then he desperately presses his lips to Miles's because he needs it. He needs to break the unbearable sexual tension. Miles is quick to react, giving in to Alex like he's only waited for an okay. He releases Alex's hand to grab his mate's jaw with both of his, and Alex gives up control eventually.

The kissing is desperate and angry, though the anger is mostly coming from Alex. Miles's kisses are soothing and so are his hands, he's slowing the two of them down altogether until Alex stops overreacting and starts to enjoy what all of this does to him. He's not happy, not at all, he feels awful about it and will probably regret every moment tomorrow, but right now there's no way he could stop. His head is a big NO but his body says yes, yes please.

 

It takes a while for him to do anything more than responding to Miles's eager kisses, which feel great, and first kisses are a wonderful thing because they tingle how second and third and fiftieth could never tingle. Miles's tongue is soft and he tastes like red wine and cigarettes and his scent is so familiar Alex wants to wrap up in it and no, Alex doesn't want to feel all those things, he wants to be completely at ease with everything, he wants to be able to forget about this, he wants to be able to stop this, stop it now, but he can't, he's too in love with how Miles feels pressed against him. How this is so much different from Arielle and Alexa and _girls_ in general, because Miles is not petite or bony or soft and there's no long hair getting in the way, and it's so much more intense.

 

Alex doesn't notice how he gets on tiptoes because Miles is just that tiny bit taller than him and he's used to kissing shorter people – without heels, anyway –, he only realises as his feet start to hurt. It's that moment that Miles breaks the kiss, parting only an inch, giving Alex enough space to either continue or panic and back away.

They look at each other for long; trying to find out what the other one is thinking. Alex wants to say something, but for the first time ever, he can't read Miles's face. He doesn't know what he's thinking. It's a mix of disappointment and hope and, as always, longing. Nothing's left of the happy-go-lucky Miles telling Alex he loves him unconditionally. This is serious business.

 

Eventually, and because Alex's eyes keep trailing off to his friend's lips, they continue kissing, Alex safely on his heels and Miles tugging at his collar while kissing.

"D'you wanna go to bed?," he mumbles against Alex's lips, the first words any of them has spoken for at least half an hour. And Alex doesn't have an answer. He'd love to sleep, but he's about 80% sure that's not what Miles meant with going to bed.

"We don't have to, it's okay," whispers Miles as he notices Alex's insecurity, but that's not how Alex wants to be treated either.

"Going to bed needs to be defined," says Alex, searching for a sign of approval or disappointment or, hell, _anything_ in Miles's eyes.

"I don't want you to feel absolutely horrible about this, mate, yaknow?" Miles doesn't look at him as he speaks his mind; his eyes are fixed at his own hands fumbling with Alex's collar.

"Miles," says Alex, grabbing his friend's hands and running his thumbs over them. Miles looks back up, eyeslids heavy and that good old smile washed from his face entirely. Alex can't stand this. With a sigh, he lifts his hand to lightly stroke Miles's cheek. "Man, I… I do feel pretty horrible but… I want this too much, I don't know."

Alex feels unbearably sober right now; he wishes they could just keep drinking and fall asleep, but they can't. Eventually, Miles takes a step back with a sigh. The record has long stopped spinning, and the silence is deafening.

"I guess you already know I'd want this too. It's… up to you, I reckon." Miles raises his eyebrows and attempts a smile, but it's forced, Alex knows. "Feel free to spend the night 'ere, I really don't want you to go home in this state." The corners of his mouth are twitching; he doesn't want to smile.

It feels like Alex can finally breathe out for what feels like an eternity. Miles doesn't want him to leave. They can postpone the Talk to tomorrow when they're both hungover but sober at least. "Ta," says Alex in lack of anything better to say. Miles leaves with a nod.

 

Alex is spread out on the bed when Miles comes back from the bathroom, and he's almost asleep though he knows his mind will not rest for the entire night. To make sure he'd still get enough sleep he's quickly emptied the bottle of wine. His head is spinning and even taking off his clothes has been a challenge. Alex is a mess that can't be bothered to even get up anymore, he'd like to just stop moving and he'd like his head to stop spinning so awfully, please.

Miles must have turned off the light because it gets dark as hell around Alex and just a moment after, the mattress moves beneath him. He feels Miles gently taking his arm and placing it next to his head so that Alex doesn't take up too much space. For the same split second that Alex considers fleeing before a night can in turn into one of Those nights, he now ponders if he should just pretend to be asleep. But instead he turns around onto his side to make some more space for his friend.

"I thought you were asleep already," says Miles lowly, and though Alex can't see much of him, he knows Miles is smiling at his difficulties of crawling under the covers. They manage to do it together, and Alex warms up instantly. He can't fall asleep though, his mind is running in circles and spirals and amplitude modulations and his thoughts crash and clash as soon as he closes his eyes. He needs something to distract him from his thoughts.

"Miles?"

"Yeh." He's awake, wide awake probably, just as Alex.

"Where are ye?" Alex grabs into this air with his hand, trying to search for Miles, and ends up finding his shoulder, far away from him.

"Yeh, there." Miles's hand covers Alex's warmly. "You okay, Al?"

"Come closer."

"What's the word?"

Alex can't help but smile. "Aaah, oooh?"

"Mate, you can be glad I have no idea where yer face is or I'd probably hit it," groans Miles, but there's a hint of amusement in his voice, and maybe it's not so bad after all, at least for the night.

"Me face is right 'ere, mate." Alex shifts closer. "Come on." He's tugging at Miles's shoulder, whispering please, whispering come closer, whispering I'm sorry. Miles says nothing, but he gives in to Alex's pleas.

Toe to toe, forehead to forehead, they end up lying still, noses brushing at the sides, and Alex nearly falls asleep to Miles's breathing. He can't rest until they've made up properly though, and so Alex pulls Miles in just that little bit more until their lips meet again in the darkness. Miles has evidently brushed his teeth and Alex feels incredibly bad because he himself must be tasting like cigarettes and alcohol and… just not going very well together with minty fresh. Miles doesn't seem to mind though, even though he's not as eager as before. Sleepy, certainly. Alex feels himself drifting off, but he forces himself to stay away for just a little more longer.

"We'll have to talk about this properly, won't we?," asks Miles as he breaks the kiss to breathe for a second.

"Yeah," mumbles Alex. "But not tonight."

"No, not tonight."

"Nah."

"Nope."

"Okay."

"Okay." Miles kisses Alex's bottom lip softly and maybe, just maybe they'll figure something out. Something that will work for both, somehow. Alex is smiling when he drifts off into a dreamless sleep.

 


End file.
